Off the Hook
by Violetrose93
Summary: Eight months. It's been eight months since Natasha Romanoff has seen Bruce Banner. Then one night, there he is. But is Natasha ready to hear his apologies and explanations? And what happens when Steve Rogers walks into the middle of their reunion? Brutasha!


**Okay, so I've never really been into the Avengers or any Marvel movies. And then I watched** _ **The Avengers**_ **two nights ago. So, naturally, last night I went and dragged my best friend to a theater an hour away that was still playing** _ **The Avengers: Age of Ultron**_ **, and now I'm completely hooked on it all. Especially Bruce and Natasha. ;)**

* * *

It was late, almost three in the morning. Natasha exhaled, tossing her jacket onto a chair by the door. One of the perks of moving the Avengers facility to upstate New York was that the residential quarters had gotten an upgrade.

Weak moonlight streamed through the bank of floor length windows that filled an entire wall of the main room. Natasha collapsed onto the low black couch, not bothering to turn on any lights. She liked it better in the dark anyway.

On a table in the corner, a digital clock blinked green numbers at her. Her heart gave a painful wrench. Making a mental note to get a clock with red numbers instead, she dragged herself to her feet and headed toward the bedroom. If she was lucky, she'd get a couple hours of sleep before Steve dragged her into another mission.

She paused in the doorway, peering into the darkened room. Something was off. A slight movement out of the corner of her eye sparked a rush of adrenaline. Wondering how someone how managed to infiltrate not only the facility, but her private rooms, Natasha drew her gun and waited, poised to move.

There. By the closet. A man, taller than herself, but not particularly bulky. Hiding in the deepest part of the shadows. Natasha smiled grimly, and lunged.

There was a cry of pain as she made contact, and a whoosh of air as her attacker's lungs emptied. Natasha snarled and rammed her forearm against the man's throat.

"Big mistake, coming here," she said softly, prodding him on the side of his head with the gun barrel. "Very big mistake."

"I've heard that before," the man gasped, and Natasha drew back, shocked.

"Bruce?"

"Yep," he groaned, and Natasha leaned over and flicked on the lamp that sat on her bedside table. Oops. His neck was already bruising, and there was a nasty cut on the side of his face, courtesy of her pistol. Suddenly aware that she was straddling him, Natasha leapt to her feet.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, holding out a hand to help him up. "And how the hell did you get into my rooms?"

"Tony let me in," answered Bruce, getting to his feet. Natasha noticed that he'd ignored her first question.

"Are you okay?" she asked, eyeing him warily. "I didn't . . . trigger anything?"

Bruce chuckled to himself, looking amused. "The other guy isn't coming out, if that's what you mean."

Natasha's eyes narrowed. "Then I'll ask this again: what are you doing here?"

Silence. Bruce refused to meet her eyes, and after an awkward moment, Natasha made a noise of disgust. Throwing her gun onto the bed, she turned and marched back into the living room. Anger was bubbling up inside of her, growing hotter with each step.

"Natasha," said Bruce quietly, following her down the hall.

Whirling on him, she snapped, "What?"

Bruce looked at her, his dark eyes mournful. The moonlight left deep craters on his face, pools of shadow and darkness that shrouded the rest of his expression. But his eyes she could see clearly, and they were threatening to undo her.

"Eight months, Bruce," Natasha said, her voice cracking slightly. "Not even a fucking _postcard_ , and then you just show up here—"

"If I had sent anything, you would have used it to find me."

"No," said Natasha sarcastically. "You think?"

Bruce closed the distance between them, grabbing her by the upper arms. "Believe me, I wanted to—"

Natasha broke away angrily. "I don't give a damn about what you wanted. In fact, I don't give a damn at all anymore. So run back to whatever third world cesspool you were hiding in. I'm sure the weather there is lovely this time of year."

"Could you just listen to me for a second?"

"Why should I?"

"Because I need you to."

Natasha didn't have a response. She turned away and crossed her arms. How could he do this? Just show up after all this time and expect her to listen to whatever half-assed excuse he had for leaving her.

"Nat," Bruce said softly, coming up behind her. Natasha tensed as she felt his hands on her shoulders, but she didn't stop him from spinning her gently to face him. "I don't expect you to forgive me, but I want you to understand. I left because I couldn't . . . couldn't bear the thought of hurting you."

"So you ran," she said coldly.

"I ran," he agreed. "But I swear to god, I didn't want to. I just wanted to keep you safe. Safe . . . from me. From the other guy."

"So why are you back now?" Natasha asked harshly.

Bruce tentatively lifted a hand to her cheek. "Because I couldn't stay away any longer," he whispered.

 _Damn it._ Natasha pushed him away, wrapping her arms around herself. _Don't do it_ , she warned herself. _You know how it'll end._ But the longing was there, as fierce and strong as ever. For a moment, Natasha was back in the lab in Sokovia, kissing Bruce for the very first time. _Don't do it_.

Bruce was standing where she'd left him, looking utterly defeated. He turned toward the door, and there was something in the slump of his shoulders that undid Natasha completely.

 _Damn_ it _._ Natasha spun and slammed into Bruce, kissing him hard. His arms were around her in an instant, crushing her to him as he returned the kiss.

Yep, she did it.

Still, Natasha couldn't keep herself from smiling, or from burying her fingers in Bruce's thick curls. She could feel him smiling too, their lips still locked passionately as hands and fingers roamed. Bruce must have stumbled over something, because suddenly they were on the couch, Natasha pinned in between his weight and the black leather.

"No fair," she whispered, flipping them. "And don't think you're off the hook, Banner."

Bruce laughed and pulled her closer. He kissed her again, and again, and for the first time since his face had disappeared from that monitor in Sokovia, tension completely drained from her body.

"Of course not," Bruce said dryly.

God, she'd missed him. Eight months of ignoring the gaping hole in her heart had almost managed to disguise the fact that Natasha only felt completely safe when Bruce was around. Oh, the irony.

Natasha tried to bury her face in his shoulder to hide the fact she was smiling, but he wouldn't let her. Their gazes locked, and for a moment, Natasha was content to just stare into his eyes. There wasn't a hint of green in them.

Just as their lips touched again, there was a resounding crash at the door. Natasha looked over the back of the couch to see Steve storm into the room.

"Let's go, Widow," he said loudly. "Intel from South Africa says—what?"

Steve had caught sight of Bruce on the couch, and the fact that Natasha was straddling him. "Banner?"

Bruce coughed. "Hey, Rogers."

Steve was silhouetted against the light from the hallway, but Natasha would've have bet anything he was blushing furiously. "I didn't—uh—when did you—"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Bye, Steve," she said, giving him a little wave over the back of the couch.

Bruce waited until Steve had stumbled out and the door had clicked shut before he started laughing. "Do you think he'll be okay?"

"Steve?" Natasha snorted. "We probably scarred him for life." She might have said more, but Bruce's lips reclaimed hers.

"You're sure I'm not off the hook?" murmured Bruce after they'd come up for air.

"Watch it, Banner," she growled, biting his bottom lip.

Bruce threw up his hands in surrender, and Natasha kissed him. They melted into one another, lips and hands communicating what words couldn't.

"Just so we're clear," she whispered. "If you leave me again like that—"

"I won't," he interrupted, kissing her hard. "I won't."

And she believed him.

* * *

 **So yeah, short and fluffy, but there is a little bit of an internal struggle there for Natasha. I just love the whole dynamic between the two of them. They're both so broken and conflicted, and, come on, freaking** _ **adorable**_ **.**

 **Okay, enough fangirling for one night. (Haha, as if that was possible.) Reviews are wonderful, especially since this is a fandom I got dragged into literally two days ago. Also, I'm now a Beta, so anyone who wants to, feel free to hit me up. Thanks!**


End file.
